He dressed to the New York City nines and could spin war stories past last call. He flew planes and dabbled in water colors. He was Big City teaching in the small town, just like his good friend Joe Paterno.

He tried to lead the Lions out of a basketball wilderness in the 1970s. He never got it done but certainly left quite an impression along the way. Bach died last week at 91, coaching almost until the very end.

He was known best as the defensive architect of Michael Jordan's Chicago Bulls. At Penn State, he was just getting warmed up.

"He always wanted to take me flying," Don Ferrell said with a laugh. He coached under Bach before a long run as Penn State football's director of academic services.

"One day I consented to that ... and never again. A two-seater, those little Cessnas? No way. I was a 28-year-old man with a family, and that was frightening."

It was always about John's stories and his style, more than pushing Penn State to the next level of basketball success. For starters, he never had the taste for recruiting.

Rather, he was an Xs-and-Os hound, hell-bent on teaching strategy, particularly defense. He was one of those rare souls who related to the world's greatest athletes as well as anonymous schoolboys, which he did in his final chapter.

"He was a classy guy," said John Coyle, Penn State's former faculty rep to the Big Ten and NCAA. And, of course, somewhat eccentric. He talked about Bach's fetish for shoes, rumors that he owned more than 200 pairs.

Bach grew up in Brooklyn and played for Fordham and eventually coached the team. He also served the Navy in World War II, where his identical twin brother was lost on a fighter pilot mission.

It was as if one grand experience built upon another. In 1972 he was Hank Iba's assistant on the U.S. Olympic team that lost to the Soviet Union in the most controversial, maybe most famous game ever played.

His decade at Penn State — a mediocre 122 victories, 121 defeats — was just another step. He even gave commercial piloting a shot, but, of course, basketball quickly brought him back.

He spent the next three decades roaming the NBA, from assistant jobs with Charlotte, Detroit and Washington to leading Golden State from 1983 through ’86.

His most famous work, though, came with the Bulls. He was the defensive guru for Phil Jackson during that first three-peat, the man responsible for the Doberman Defense. He clicked with Jordan, Scottie Pippen and Horace Grant like no one else.

"He encouraged me, worked with me and really helped me to mold my game,” Jordan told the Chicago Tribune last week. “He was more than a coach to me. He was a great friend.”

John Paxson, the Bulls' executive vice president of basketball operations, called Bach "a true treasure in the world of basketball."

From Penn State to the NBA.

"John was a perfectionist and demanded a lot," Ferrell said. "The man was a genius when it came to defense."

But it was more than that, really.

The War never left him. He sprinkled his teaching and speeches with military terms to the point where former Penn State sports information director Dave Baker joked about not knowing what he was talking about. Bach would draw the ace of spades — the "death card" used to scare the Vietcong — on a team blackboard or tape one to a player's locker to signify a big victory.

"There was nobody more patriotic than John," Baker said. "His shoes were spit-shined polished. Every time you saw John his shoes looked like he was standing for inspection in front of the admiral."

Most importantly, it was about what he could pull out of others. From those at Penn State to the legendary Bulls to the kids he volunteered to help coach just a few years ago.

What does Ferrell remember most?

Probably that time as a young assistant when the Nittany Lions were preparing to play Madison Square Garden. Bach wasn't feeling well. So he told Ferrell to lead the team that night "and do it the way you want to do it."

No matter that things didn't go particularly well during that wondrous opportunity. Bach quietly took over with the Lions seemingly lost from view, inspiring a rally that made it close.

After it was over, Bach patted Ferrell on the back before they walked off the court. He didn't need to say much.

"Not too many people would have done something like that for me, gave me the taste of running a college program ..." Ferrell said.

"It was like, 'I'm proud of you.' It was a father type of thing to do."